Still Just a Rat in a Cage...
by tune youg
Summary: Disturbing little thing about Joey and Harley. Joey runs away and stays with Harley for awhile. It'll eventually be yaoi or slash or whatever you want to call it, but nothing's happening yet. ^^.;
1. runaway run

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WARNING: This is going to contain yaoi/slash. Read: Homosexuality. Between Joey and Harley. No, they don't make a good couple at all. I know that. That's sort of the point here. Anyway. If you disagree with this or really don't feel like reading about the twisted crap in this fic, then..... DON'T. I don't feel like being flamed by anti-gay people or anything.... I mean, those are your opinions and these are mine. Thanks. ^_^.;  
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Introduction of sorts: To begin with, this probably isn't going to be a typical romantic yaoi story. I mean, you've got to look at the characters involved here. You've got Joey, one of Harley's lackeys, who's been abused and who's never thought for himself. Then you've got Harley, this tough guy whose name strikes fear into the hearts of the seventh graders of John Adams High, trying to deal with the possibility that he may be falling for a boy (and a very irritating one at that). It's all very confusing for everyone, you see. Even the readers like yourself and the deranged writers like me. o_o.; (Who are greatly suffering from writer's block. I've been trying to write this for 5 or 6 months and I'm getting nowhere. Don't expect a new chapter anytime soon. Not that you'll want one.)  
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Disclaimer: All characters copyright Michael Jacobs and Touchstone and.. stuff. o_o.; Except Joey's parents and stepfather... I made them up... *hugs Joey's made-up daddy, Rulik* ^_^.; But nothing else is mine. o_o.; And the working title here *points to it below* and little lyric insert thingies that will eventually appear are from the song "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by the Smashing Pumpkins. (my favorite songggg) o_O.; That's it.  
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...Still Just a Rat in a Cage...  
  
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- the world is a vampire -  
  
  
Joey was running. He couldn't be sure of precisely where he was running. It was dark, and he couldn't see the street signs. He wasn't sure if he even remembered the route to where Harley lived. But maybe that didn't matter. It wasn't like he had anyone to run from now. Out of breath, he stopped, looking at the houses around him, for some kind of landmark. He looked at the name on the mailbox in the yard where he was standing. "Kiner." Well, that had worked out surprisingly well. Joey slowly walked up the driveway and to the door, where he hesitated a moment before knocking.  
  
It wasn't Harley who answered the door, but his younger sister, T.K. Joey felt a little relieved.  
  
"Yeah?" T.K. looked at him for a minute, then recognized him. "Oh, Joey... I guess you're here to see Harvey, right? I--"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"You know, my brother," she informed him.   
  
"Oh." Joey grinned, wondering how many people knew that Harley Kiner's real name was Harvey.  
  
"Don't call him that, by the way," T.K. said, pointing a threatening finger toward him. He nodded. "Anyway," she continued, "he's in the shower, but... well, he should be done by now. You can come in and wait for him if you want."  
  
"Thanks." He nodded again and stepped inside, looking around the house. He'd never been inside before. Half the walls were covered in dark paneling; the other half in a strange orange, avocado, and gold-colored peacock wallpaper. The carpets were a worn, rusty red color. The furniture in the living room where he stood consisted of a torn vinyl couch (which should have matched the color of the carpet, but was just different enough to clash horribly), a large wooden bookshelf which currently housed four books, an old television with a mallet at its side, and a stool with a bag of Fritos on it. Joey concluded that no one had bothered to redecorate during the past few decades.  
  
  
- sent to drain -  
  
  
"Theresa, who's there?" came Harley's voice from down the hall.  
  
"The rat," T.K. called back.  
  
"Oh." Harley sounded disappointed.  
  
T.K. rolled her eyes. "I'll go get him for you."  
  
After a few minutes, she returned with her brother. "Don't worry, tips aren't necessary," she said with a grin as she left.  
  
Harley raised an eyebrow. "So, why'd you come here, anyway?"  
  
Joey swallowed nervously. "Well, see, when you think about it, I... I mean, it's kinda funny, right? 'Cause I'm always talkin' too much, and you've always gotta tell me to shut up and you probably hate me, so I'm guessing there's no way you'd ever--"  
  
"I DO always have to tell you to shut up, don't I?" said Harley, cutting him off. "Now what the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Well, Frankie and his family are on vacation for a while, you know."  
  
Harley waited for Joey to finish his explanation, and when he didn't, said slowly, "Yeah. I know that."  
  
"So I couldn't go to him, and everyone else hates me, and I was hoping maybe you hate me less than everyone else, so that you could--"  
  
"Would you just get to the point?!" Harley was already getting sick of Joey's voice.  
  
"Can I stay with you?"  
  
Pause. "Can you stay with me?"  
  
Nod.  
  
"Depends. How long?"  
  
Shrug.  
  
Harley sighed. "Why do you need to stay here anyway?"  
  
Joey hesitated a second, then said simply, "..Family problems. You know."  
  
No, Harley didn't know, but he didn't say anything because he didn't want to listen to whatever Joey's long, rambling answer would be. "All right, you can stay, but remember that I can kick you out at any time."  
  
That got an enthusiastic response from Joey. "Thanks, Harley! You won't regret it, really! I'll do whatever you want me to, and I won't talk so much as I usually do. You won't even notice that I'm here! And that's a good thing, isn't it? Because you always say that--"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
  
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Three hours and fourteen "Shut up!"s later, Harley couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going to bed," he grumbled, walking back to his room. In all these years, he'd never noticed how annoying Joey was. At least now he'd get away from him until morning. He entered his room and slammed the door behind him.  
  
"Ow, shit!" cried a voice from directly behind the door. Harley turned around as the door opened and Joey came in rubbing his nose. "Hey, Harley, you know you slammed the door on my face?" He laughed.  
  
Harley took a deep breath. "Joey, what do you want? I told you, I'm going to bed now."  
  
"Right! So I will too then!" He grinned a little ratty grin. "Where do you want me to sleep?"  
  
"On the couch, in a room far away from me."  
  
Joey looked hurt. "But I don't want to be out there by myself. It's so dark and lonely. Plus, I hate vinyl. I mean, have YOU ever slept on vinyl? It sticks to your legs."  
  
By then, Harley was getting very close to kicking him out. "Fine, you can sleep on the floor here then." He paused. "If you planned on staying here, why didn't you pack anything?"  
  
"I was kind of in a hurry. I didn't think about it."  
  
"..Isn't packing for a trip sort of an essential that you don't..." he sighed. "Oh, forget it." He opened a drawer and pulled out a huge black shirt, which he tossed over to Joey. "Go ahead and change into that."  
  
"Thanks." He stood there awkwardly, looking from the shirt to Harley. Harley looked back.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well..." Joey glanced at the shirt again.  
  
"What, you're afraid to take off your shirt and pants in front of guys?"  
  
  
- secret destroyers -  
  
  
Joey laughed nervously. "Well, I.. it's not that, you know... but..."  
  
"Come on, what's wrong with you? You got something to hide?" This was just irritating him now. After all, it wasn't any different than changing in a locker room at gym, which he was sure Joey had done many times.  
  
  
- hold you out to the flames -  
  
  
Joey didn't answer; he just stared blankly at the trash can by the door.  
  
"Okay, that's it. Do you have any idea how stupid you're being?" Harley suddenly grabbed Joey and pulled the long-sleeved brown shirt with white stripes over his head.  
  
"Stop it!" said Joey's voice, muffled by the shirt which was still stuck halfway on his head. Harley got it off with one more yank on the left sleeve.   
  
"There! My God, did you have to throw a--" He backed up, eyes widening as he looked at him. Joey had bruises all over his arms and stomach. He was looking at the floor, silent for once.  
  
"...What the hell happened to you?" Harley asked, sounding almost concerned.  
  
"Just... a disagreement. With my stepfather." Joey said, not looking up from the floor.  
  
He hadn't even known Joey HAD a stepfather. "If you don't mind my saying so, that looks like a little more than a disagreement."  
  
"No."   
  
  
- and what do i get -  
  
  
For once, Harley wished Joey would give a longer reply. "What did you... disagree... about?"  
  
Joey looked up at him. "Spaghetti."  
  
"Spaghetti?"  
  
"Yeah. See, I'd just made enough spaghetti for myself for dinner, and then Greg came home and got all mad 'cause I hadn't left any for him, and I explained that I hadn't expected him to be home for dinner since he's always out somewhere getting drunk and that if he wanted it that bad the recipe was right there on the counter and he could make it himself, which I guess was a pretty stupid thing to say." It was a very long sentence, and his voice cracked a little as he said it.  
  
"So he beat you up because of a plate of spaghetti?" asked Harley.  
  
"No, not because of the spaghetti. Because of how I talked to him, I guess."  
  
  
- for my pain? -  
  
  
"Shit... I could understand him slapping you or something, but this is a little extreme. Doesn't your mom do anything?"  
  
He shook his head. "She's at work all the time. Besides, she'd be too scared to do anything about it." He paused. "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway." And with that, he took off his jeans and slid on the big shirt Harley had given him. It ended a good three inches below his knees, completely covering his green plaid boxers. He sighed, and pointed to the floor. "You got a pillow and a sheet or something?"  
  
Harley frowned. "You know, maybe you shouldn't sleep on the floor with all those bruises... I mean, it's really hard." He tapped his foot on the cold linoleum to show him. "No one could really sleep on this."  
  
Joey blinked, surprised that Harley was acting concerned about him now. That was certainly a new development. "No, it's okay. I'm used to sleeping on hard surfaces. My mattress is old and pretty flat and hard, but I can still sleep on it. I can sleep on just about anything, actually." He forced a smile. "Oh, except for vinyl couches," he added quickly.   
  
  
- betrayed desires -  
  
  
"No, really. You take the bed," Harley said with a sigh as he got a spare pillow and a sheet from the closet. "I can take the floor for a night."  
  
"But you just said how hard and uncomfortable the floor was."  
  
Harley gave him one of those 'just shut up and leave it' looks, so he did just that.  
  
  
- and a piece of the game -  
  
  
  
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The next morning, Harley woke up with a backache. He glared at Joey, who was still asleep on his bed, for a moment. Then he remembered that he was the one who had insisted Joey take the bed. He grumbled to himself as he awkwardly managed to get up and trudge out to the kitchen.  
  
Sixteen minutes later, Harley looked up from his breakfast of coffee and Oreos slathered in peanut butter to see Joey running into the kitchen and stopping at the table.   
  
"I'm sorry!" he said.  
  
Harley just looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "...Why?"  
  
"I was going to get up early and make pancakes for you! I never wake up after seven, I don't know what happened, but--"  
  
"Just forget about it," he sighed. "Here, have an Oreo."  
  
"Thanks..." Joey took the Oreo and looked at it for a second, then set it back on the table. "Can I get you anything? Anything at all? Maybe some orange juice?"  
  
"I don't like orange juice."  
  
"Heheh, really? That's kind of funny, 'cause I'm allergic to it. So I guess we don't have to worry about who's going to finish the orange juice since we're not--"  
  
"Some aspirin might be nice," he said with a little glare.  
  
"You got it!" And he dashed off in search of a medicine cabinet.  
  
Harley sighed again, shaking his head slowly. T.K. walked into the kitchen, staring down the hall.  
  
"He's always that hyperactive, huh?" she said, smiling a little.  
  
"Nearly. But he seems more... I don't know, more eager-to-please than usual."  
  
"Isn't it obvious? He's probably trying to do everything for you as a way of paying rent."  
  
"Yeah, I guess that'd make sense." He yawned. "Has Mom come back yet? Think she'd care that he's staying here?"  
  
T.K. gave him one of those looks. "I don't know, what do you think?"  
  
He paused. "I think... no."  
  
"And I think you're right."  
  
"Hey, hey, hey, Harley!! I got it!" Joey shouted happily as he ran into the kitchen with a bottle of pills. "And you see THAT?!" he said, slamming the poor little plastic bottle down on the counter. "Not just regular old Advil, but EXTRA STRENGTH."  
  
"...Yeah. That's great, thanks."  
  
  
  
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Hi there. What do you think so far?  
  
....Damn! I loved this when I started it back in May, but my GOD it's getting so lame! And I haven't  
been able to think of how to continue it since then. I mean, I have ideas for scenes later on, when  
Harley's all..... and Joey has that sad 5-second flashback..... and..... yeah. x_x.; Well, anyway.  
Review if you'd like. I might continue it someday. I'd like to.  
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	2. when couches attack

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Author's Notes and The Like for Chapter 2: Wow, it's been almost a year since I've added on to this. x_o.; I have the basic ideas for this story, but I can't connect the different parts. -_-.; Anyway, this part's really short because I still have horrible writer's block. And because I'm tired. x_x.;  
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WARNINGS: Same as Chapter 1 for the most part. This one starts to deal with Joey's sexuality, and there's also a little couch humor to make up for how stupidly serious I've been trying to make this. Vinyl couches are satanic.  
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It was early, about 7:00 in the morning, and no one else was up yet. Joey picked up the old phone in the kitchen, and slowly dialed the number for the place where his mother worked. He wasn't sure of exactly what the company she worked for did, but that didn't seem to matter. He waited as the phone went on ringing at the other end. After the eleventh ring, he was ready to hang up, but just then someone picked it up.  
  
"Hello?" came the voice over the phone.  
  
"Oh!" He cleared his throat. "Could I speak to Virginia Murdock, please?"  
  
"Who is this?"  
  
"Joey."  
  
"Oh." The voice sounded a little disgusted by the memory of him. "Please hold for a minute."  
  
Several of the stated minutes went by. Joey started to wonder if she'd even gone to get his mother, or if she'd just decided to leave him on hold. He chewed on his thumbnail. Damn, he needed a smoke.  
  
He heard the phone pick up. There was a cough (apparently she'd been having the same thoughts), then, "Joey?"  
  
"Yeah. Hey, Mom, I don't know if you noticed I wasn't home last night or the night before..." He trailed off, hoping for an answer. Pause. "....Mom?"  
  
"Oh! I'm sorry, honey, I didn't realize you wanted an answer....." She sounded very tired. "No, it.. I've been getting home pretty late..."  
  
  
- even though i know -  
  
  
He sighed. "Okay, well, I'm going to be staying with a friend for a while, all right? Like.... I don't know. A while. I thought you'd like to know. In case you were worried or anything."  
  
There was another long pause. "What did he do to you this time?"  
  
"Don't worry about it. Just... yeah. I'm... I'm gonna go now."  
  
"All right..." There was a sigh. "Well, thank you for calling."  
  
Joey frowned to himself as he hung up. He didn't really have any idea what he was going to do. Besides, he couldn't stay here forever. It's not like they had invited him there in the first place. Looking up, he saw T.K. standing in the doorway. "Oh... hi."  
  
"Hey," she said, yawning. "You're up a little earlier than usual, huh?"  
  
Joey nodded. "Yeah, I had to make a phone call..."  
  
"Yep, that's generally what using the phone means." T.K. smiled and sat down on the vinyl couch. "Sooo, how long have you had a crush on my brother?"  
  
Joey choked. "What?!"  
  
T.K. tilted her head to the side. "Anyone with any insight can tell... You're fairly obvious, dear. Always following him around, doing whatever he wants, gazing at him and hanging on his every word..."  
  
  
- i suppose i'll show -  
  
  
"I... damn it." Joey shook his head violently; he could tell he was blushing. This was a subject he tried to think about as little as possible. "Harley... he doesn't... he doesn't know, does he?"  
  
"I said anyone with any insight," T.K. laughed. "Of course he doesn't." She yawned and stretched her arms. "You two would be the cutest couple!"  
  
Joey blinked. "Do you think I'd actually have a chance?"  
  
"Well, to be honest...." she hesitated. "No." She poked at a hole from which the couch's innards were protruding. She knew that Harley didn't really approve of that kind of relationship. "I guess it probably wouldn't happen. But... well, there's sure to be other guys out there, eh?"  
  
"Well, yeah, I guess." He wasn't really enjoying this conversation topic, as it made him feel rather awkward. He was always trying to ignore his feelings, rather than try to accept what he knew he was. (Although he had sort of known it since elementary school.) It wasn't anything to be proud of, that was for sure. In an attempt to change the subject, he asked (out of nowhere, it seemed), "So how old are you now?"  
  
T.K. looked at him oddly. "Well, I'll be fourteen tomorrow." She didn't sound overly happy about it.  
  
"Wow, fourteen already, huh? Heh, I remember back when I first met you! You had just turned eight!"  
  
She looked away, frowning to herself. "Yeah, yeah, I remember it too." Turning back with a smile, she said, "Well, I guess we should get some breakfast, hmm?"  
  
  
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Harley was disgusted. Oh, it wasn't like he'd meant to listen in on that, but being in the next room (which they apparently didn't know), he couldn't really help overhearing. Voices did carry, after all. But he really wished he hadn't heard. The thought of a guy liking him-- and not just any guy, but JOEY -- it was appalling. He wasn't sure who he was more disgusted with, Joey for being gay, or himself for being appealing to him. Whatever the case, he certainly wouldn't be sleeping in the same room with Joey again.   
  
  
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Sixteen and a half hours later, Harley announced that he was going to go to bed, and when Joey started to follow him, he said that if Joey planned on staying longer, he'd really appreciate it if he would go change in the bathroom or something, and sleep in another room. Preferably on the couch. Yes, the vinyl one.   
  
  
- all my cool and cold -  
  
  
"...Oh! Yeah, sure, that's... that's fine." Joey forced a smile and one of his trademark horrible rat laughs, which he noticed made Harley cringe and turn away. Hell. Apparently, Harley wasn't as oblivious at they'd thought. Or else he'd heard their conversation. That was more likely. Joey hated himself. He always had been unnecessarily loud.  
  
Harley opened the door of the hallway closet and pulled out an old Superman sheet from sometime in the late seventies, then tossed it to Joey. "There. There should be a pillow on the couch."  
  
Hopelessly lost in the sheet which had landed on his head, Joey again started on a pointless spiel that no one wanted to hear. "Okay, thanks, Harley. You know, I don't really mind couches that much. And if you want me to leave, I understand that, and I mean, it's really nice of you to be letting me stay here in the first place, since I know we were never really that good of friends. This could be good for--" Finally finding the dim light at the end of the sheet, he realized that no one was there listening to him anyway.  
  
Now that he rightfully felt like a moron (which wasn't anything new), Joey decided to try and get some sleep. He stared at the couch for a while, wondering if it was one of those couches that folded out into beds. Stare. No, it wasn't. There wasn't a pillow, either. The armrest would have to do. He was still in his clothes, too. He was afraid to ask Harley for that T-shirt again. Whatever. He was tired; it didn't really matter. He sighed to himself and sank down into the couch's torn vinyl cushions.  
  
And REALLY sank. "Ack!" Joey tried to grab onto the armrest and pull himself out of the cushions of doom, while the couch was still dead set on engulfing him. His foot still stuck deep within the couch's organs, he managed to sort of squirm into a pathetic lying-down position. After a few minutes, the couch seemed to give up, and released his foot. Joey warily reached down and picked up the Superman sheet, then covered himself with it and moved to a more comfortable position to sleep. He laughed inwardly. He'd beaten the couch. Yes, indeed.  
  
An hour or so later, Joey had begun to drift off to sleep. Hell, this old couch wasn't so bad once you tamed it.  
  
  
Suddenly, the couch collapsed and he fell into its clutches again.  
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
  
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// End notes: // And it's also going to be a long before I try to update again. x_x.; Though if I can ever get through T.K.'s birthday, it should be a lot easier after that. ^^. That means drunkenness and bad memories in the next episode. Whoo. -_-.; Review if you like, don't bother flaming.  
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